Hi team. Skyrim is the property of Bethesda Softworks. It's good to be posting again. Chris, thanks for the kind words as always. I'm glad you're enjoying this story. I appreciate the feedback Naruto. I enjoyed exchanging messages, but I'm sorry to say I haven't read your work yet. RL has been keeping me away from some of my more time-consuming hobbies.
Here then is the conclusion of I, Legionnaire.
After the war my conscience demanded I visit Ralof and Hadvar's families in Riverwood. It fell on me to tell Ralof's family that I was the one to slay him and how he died. I told them that the plates of his armor were etched quicksilver and ebony in the likeness of a bear. Black fur padded his outlay. His shield was adorned with a silver death's head. In his hand was an axe with a long graceful bitt made of the same materials. Against the blue and gray backdrop of his comrades, he stood out as a silvery beacon of splendor. I told them that he fought bravely against Hadvar and against me.
I don't tell them how the battle around us felt like it had come to a standstill, even though thousands of people all around us were doing their best to kill each other. I don't tell them how we circled each other with sorrow in our hearts, driven to kill friends for the sake of the oaths we took. But when we came to blows, the hesitation went away. The edge of his shield swept up into the side of my head. I felt my ear turn to cauliflower as I rolled away. Almost instinctively, Ralof understood Revenant's limitations and exploited them even as I took advantage of his axe's cumbersome balance and single cutting edge. Ralof swatted Revenant away every time I tried to parry and had a piece of his metal armor in the blade's path whenever I thought I had a winning blow. I don't tell Ralof's family, friends, or anyone outside the Circle or my housecarls of the deathblow. A ferocious blow from Ralof's axe shivered my shield as I crouched behind it. I'd switched off Revenant and brought her behind my shield. As Ralof lifted his axe away, I punched forward with my shield, knowing he would be doing the same. Our arms bounced clear of each other, leaving us both exposed for the first time. By the grace of the Gods, Revenant was closer to striking when I lit her than his axe was. I remember Revenant skipping up the face of his armor until it lodged in a band and pierced the fur gambeson beneath. I continued to push until the blade reached his heart. I don't tell Ralof's family how I almost vomited over him when I saw how I repaid the man who dragged me to safety at Helgen.
The world swam. The magnitude of my grief would wait. I got my bearings and made my way to Brunwulf Free-Winter's house with my warriors beside me. The streets of Windhelm were a maze of barricades defended by Stormcloak militia waiting for their chance to meet the legions following my cadre though the east side of the city. My friends and I sped heedless before the cohorts of the 1st Imperial Legion, guiding their golden dragon and the image of the white-gold tower in its claws. The snow began falling.
I counted the proper number of doors and burst into an unassuming middle-class house. A large old man with a beard and a tanned, weather-beaten complexion gazed up at my intrusion. There was no curiosity or surprise.
"You must be here to deliver Tullius's summons," He said before I could open my mouth.
I nodded, still too unsteady from the battle to speak.
He gestured at me dismissively when I hesitated, "Well get back to your duty! I'm too old and feeble to join you now. I'll come to the Palace of the Kings when the fighting's over!"
I nodded again, gestured for my housecarls to remain, and rejoined the battle spreading through the streets where thirty thousand people worked to destroy as much life as possible. The sporadic white of the first snowflakes minutes ago was now a steady fall of tiny crystal in a gray sky.
The Palace of the Kings was dark and empty when I stepped in behind General Tullius and Legate Rikke. Ulfric sat on his throne and his general Galmar Stone-Fist stood at his right hand in the otherwise deserted hall.
"Legate, secure the door," the general commanded.
"Already done sir," she acknowledged.
"Ulfric Stormcloak! You are guilty of insurrection, murder of Imperial citizens, the assassination of King Torygg, and high treason against the Empire. It's over," Tullius said to his nemesis.
"Not while I'm still breathing, it's not," Galmar replied while advancing to meet the three of us in the empty room.
Rikke sneered, "Step aside Galmar, we're here to accept Ulfric's surrender."
Ulfric stood, drew his axe, and spoke for the first time. "I'll never surrender Skyrim to a corrupt and dying Empire," he answered.
"Skyrim does not belong to you, Ulfric!" Rikke yelled back.
Ulfric stepped down from his throne and squared off before General Tullius. "No… But I belong to her!"
The argument might have gone on, but Tullius broke in, "Enough! You are traitors and will die traitors' deaths. Stand down now and face public execution, or advance and face summary execution by my hand. It matters little to me."
"Well. What are we waiting for?" Galmar demanded as he raised his axe to strike at Rikke.
Ulfric Shouted at the same moment, blasting Tullius and Rikke halfway back to the doors. I ached to tear my gag away and reply in kind. Instead I shed my broken shield and advanced on Galmar with Revenant in both hands. Our battle was fast. Galmar Stone-Fist's brilliant tactics are proverbial from his time in the Legion. Those same skills almost brought Skyrim out of the Empire. As a warrior he wasn't bad, but I've faced other right-hand men in my time: Vilkas routinely bested me in Jorrvaskr's yard; my battle against Tsun remains one of the few parts of Sovngarde I'm willing to talk about at length; Hjornskar Head-Smasher was a brilliant duelist who I treated unjustly after a well-fought exchange. Compared to them, Galmar was nothing. I brought him low in three quick strokes and turned to face Ulfric before the corpse hit the floor.
Tullius was recovered by then and already advancing on the Jarl. The two men came to blows while Rikke and I looked on. There was a vitality in Tullius's weathered form that surprised me. I was gambling that it would be Rikke or I to subdue Ulfric, but Tullius's swordplay was a testament to almost forty years of continuous training and war. Soon Ulfric was down his knees, clutching the stab wounds in his stomach.
"Well Ulfric, you can't escape this time. Any last requests before I send you to the corpse-pit reserved for traitors and mutineers?"
Ulfric hesitated, looking over at me and shimmering Revenant in my hand. "Let the Dragonborn be the one to do it. It'll make for a better song," he replied.
Tullius rolled his shoulders dismissively. "Song or not, I just want it done," he said with total indifference.
I worked that wretched gag off my mouth to speak, deeply angry that Ulfric would use me as a sop to his vanity, "This is your war Tullius, finish it."
Tullius's sword drove into Ulfric's form before the beaten Jarl could say another word. Ulfric Stormcloak fell stiffly to the floor before his throne. I closed down Revenant while Tullius and Rikke wiped and sheathed their blades.
"Talos be with you, old friend," Rikke whispered with a thick voice.
"What was that Legate?" Tullius challenged over his shoulder.
"Nothing. Just saying goodbye," she replied quickly. Her frame shook as she held back tears.
Tullius sighed wearily, "Well, the men will be expecting some kind of speech. And we'll need to hand the city over to that Free-Winter fellow."
"He and his escort will be coming shortly. Windhelm will need a government quickly if we want to restore order," I reported.
Tullius nodded, "We'll be here for a few more weeks until the local militia can police the city again, but I don't expect any more serious violence. Now let's get out of here. The Legion needs to know what's happened."
The three of us stepped out into the bailey of the Palace of the Kings. The snow was coming down hard, already accumulating in the edges of the city's walls. Alea joined me immediately. Through my lingering anger and fear, I clasped her hand tightly.
The small courtyard was lined with Stormcloak soldiers, to a man and woman disarmed and on their knees. Behind them and before them stood legionaries. Beyond the narrow entry to the yard were thousands of people, some on their knees, others guarding them or doors. Triage teams scurried among the fallen. Civilians peeked out of narrow windows, though any who tried to step outside were chased back in immediately.
"Attention! General Tullius has an announcement!" Legate Rikke roared above the din.
"The rebellion is over!" Tullius cried, "Ulfric Stormcloak is dead! His great banner will be sent to Cyrodiil where it will hang as a trophy from the rafters of the Imperial Palace! Let this day be a final warning to all who would still call themselves Stormcloaks!
"We are turning this city over to Brunwulf Free-Winter, an honorable and faithful man. Many of you will be staying in Windhelm to aid the Jarl in restoring order and stamping out any embers of rebellion that still smolder here.
"In appreciation of your exemplary service, I am doubling your pay and compensation to the widows of your fallen comrades. I am proud of you all! All hail the Emperor! All hail his Legionnaires!"
The soldiers present roared their acclamation, waving swords or banging their knees against their shields. All called Tullius "Caesar" (a very dangerous term) and "Imperator" (both a title and a term of endearment). I stayed silent, as did the other officers near Rikke and me. The legions are deadly serious when they acclaim their general Warlord. If Tullius wanted a throne, he needed only to name it, and the three armies' worth of men and women here would be willing to win it for him.
"I hate giving speeches," Tullius said quietly to Rikke and me.
"It wasn't so bad," she replied.
"I just hope I haven't created a martyr," he grumbled.
"There's bound to be resistance, but I think most will be happy to return to their homes without Ulfric to inflame their passions," I observed. "I noticed you decided not to take Ulfric's head."
Rikke nodded, "That would have been a spark to burn all of Skyrim."
"I pray you're right officers. In the meantime, we'll continue to root out the remnants and put them to the sword," Tullius said.
"And the prisoners?" she asked.
Tullius sighed, "We'll take their weapons as prizes and disperse the soldiers. We would execute the lot for the rebels they are, but someone gave the Stormcloaks prisoner of war status after the battle of Markarth."
"And what of me sir?" I asked.
Tullius shrugged casually, "The war is over. You've met your end of our arrangement. You weren't always as careful as I would have my Quaestors be, but your results can't be disputed."
"And Erikur?"
A thin smile stretched across the General's grim face, "With all that we have on him now, he'll be on his best behavior if he doesn't want to disappear. I'd say he's going to be building you a new house in Solitude soon."
"Thank you sir."
Tullius straitened slightly, I found myself matching his posture as he turned to face me, "It's been an honor to have your service Dragonborn. Your conduct is a credit to the fighting peoples of the Empire. I'm placing you back into reserve status. I think you'll accomplish more good if you're free to roam. Don't become too hard to find though; between the four of us, I guess five years before we're at war with the Dominion again."
Tullius and Rikkie returned my last salute and walked off to speak with the rest of their officers.
I turned to face Aela and admired the sight of her in my armor. The curved moonstone short sword I stole from Elenwen and her Skyforge dagger hung together from her slim waist. There is nothing of mine that can't become hers I suppose.
"It's a bit tight at the hips," she said, smiling weakly.
There was so much I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her how angry I was with her. I wanted to tell her how terrified I was when I saw her so close behind me in the assault; how glad I was that she was still safe; and how wonderful it felt to know she'd forgiven me. I wanted to tell her how I would never dare to push her back again. I wanted to tell Aela how I loved her so. But like her, somehow I was afraid of saying too much. All I could say as we wrapped our arms around each other was, "I'm sure Eorlund, can make adjustments."
"Let's find someplace safe before you get stabbed," Aela said as we parted.
I winced at the truth of her remark. There were thousands of people in Windhelm right now who would be happy to.
So that is my take on the Stormclaok Insurrection. I hope I have not been so harsh on Ulfric as to alienate is real-world fans. I look forward and hope for an Elder Scrolls VI so we can all discover how it really went down.
I am hardly done with this series: Ieago and Aela have many roads to walk yet and Skyrim has many enemies to subdue. Thank you all for reading. It is my hope that as Skyrim fades from relevance in the face of time and fresher titles; that the fan fiction based upon it will remain relavent and supported by its own merit.